Strangers in Hell
by lostlikeme
Summary: Bakugou refuses to mate during his rut and ends up going feral. Midoriya and Shouto help cool him down. Warning for explicit content.


Bakugou had never announced his status, but the whole school knew he was an alpha. The secondary characteristics were already there. The nonstop posturing, fits of rage, and proverbial pissing contests were all classic signs of the climb in testosterone expected of a maturing alpha. No one knew when he had presented, and no one asked. Could have been as early as middle school, some of their classmates speculated.

Shouto was in the middle of class when Bakugou finally freaked and shot off like a firecracker on New Year's Eve. Everyone had assumed an unchecked rut, and muzzling him was merely a preliminary safety measure before escorting him out for a medical inspection. Security was prepared for the ensuing fire but not the way Bakugou broke free with his arms still bound in metal, tearing down the hallway in a streak of ferocious red light.

Midoriya moved first, he always did. His entire body appeared to be propelled forward by an unstoppable energy bigger than the vessel it was trapped in. He glanced back for less than a second and their eyes met like a lit match. Shouto's future unrolled before him like a spool of film - a future following Midoriya. Why?

He felt apart from his own body when he moved past his stunned peers to chase after them, putting out fires while making sure the green blur in the distance never escaped his field of vision. Part of the ceiling caved and he lost sight anyway, blinded by plaster and a bright spark of power. Their route was predictable, however. Straight to the infirmary.

Through the crack in the door Shouto could see the entire room. There were cotton balls on the counter and popsicle sticks by the sink and then there was Bakugou, writhing on the flimsy cot, straining the weak metal and thrashing violently against the mattress. He was howling something unbearably desperate into the mask around his mouth, indecipherable. Midoriya was trembling, hovering without infringing on Bakugou's inflated sense of territory.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Shouto stepped into the room before Midoriya did something he was going to regret. Cornering another alpha was bound to create worse conflict. This wasn't the kind of thing Midoriya could shoulder on his own.

"We have to take it off," Midoriya said slowly. "I think that maybe...his quirk can't handle his rut."

The situation was far more grave than he or Midoriya ever could have predicted. The entire room was dripping with Bakugou's musk, sweat like gasoline and the smoking rubber soles of his shoes. He hauled himself up like a marionette, head first, body swinging behind. His pupils were little red pinheads nearly swallowed by the surrounding sclera.

"At least he can't bite with that thing on."

There was drool leaking from the muzzle, sizzling before it reached Bakugou's closed fists, evaporating in midair. Shouto stepped forward while Bakugou revved up like an old motorcycle engine. When he turned it was too slow, and his sluggish reflexes gave Shouto ample time to grab him by his bound wrists and push him face first back into the bed.

"Wait!" Midoriya cautioned. "Are you sure we should just -"

Disabling him was easy when his arms were already encased in steel. Shouto kept him pinned there while Midoriya fumbled. This close, it was easier to make out the words Bakugou was emptying into the muzzle. Predictably, none of it was directed at him. Shouto turned to face Midoriya, trying not to count the freckles.

"You wanted to take it off, right?"

Midoriya's nod was tight. "Ah, right."

Shouto wasn't even trying that hard; there was just no strength in him. Midoriya maneuvered around the raging bull to reach for the clasps at the nape of Bakugou's neck, digging into the skin on the back of his scalp. It wasn't completely uncommon protocol to restrain alphas by force, but the whole process still felt archaic, unjust in a way Shouto couldn't possibly articulate, even to himself.

The moment the belt slipped from the little metal buckle, Bakugou snapped, sending the muzzle flying across the room. Midoriya flinched when it hit the ground, magnified by the ear-splitting cry that followed. There was a ringing noise after, but Shouto couldn't be sure if the school was setting off a real alarm or he was suffering from hearing loss.

"When I get outta this, I'm gonna wreck you." Bakugou's frame trembled from the sheer force of his screams. "I'm gonna fuck you to death, deku!" He managed to overturn a trashcan in his fury, one leg stuck inside the hard plastic. "Get the hell off me you freak!"

It would be better if everyone else didn't see him like this. Aside from the total humiliation Bakugou would face when he recovered, not all other alphas were blessed with Midoriya's level of self-control. Bakugou was a liability, a volcano on the verge of eruption. Midoriya's nostrils flared as he got another whiff of the pheromones, followed by a spike in his core body temperature.

"Recovery Girl isn't here," Shouto said, pressing Bakugou's arms into his back. His cheek kissed the sheet when Shouto leaned down, using his weight to keep him in place. "We're on our own."

The next part, he kept to himself. He didn't want to send Midoriya into a panic, but Bakugou was running out of time. Pretty soon a team of medics was going to show up, sedate him, and drag him to a crisis center until someone from his family could contain him properly.

"I think we can help," Midoriya said, fingers curling against the meat of his palm. He stepped in front of the doorway, expression serious. "We just have to get him below threshold."

They'd gone over de-escalation in health class, but Shouto had no practical experience with which to compare. Sensei had said something about body language, something Shouto couldn't remember. Even if it was just the two of them, they could probably manage it - the strength of an alpha combined with the cool, collected wit of a beta gave them an obvious advantage over a lone alpha that couldn't control his own rut.

"Get the fuck out!"

Bakugou squirmed, bucked, and slipped from his grip, before trying to impale Shouto with his elbows. He took a swipe at Midoriya with his fists but his speed was halved, and he buckled before he could land a blow. Midoriya rushed to catch him but he caught himself and tried to shoot a blast of fire into Midoriya's face instead.

"We just wanna help!"

His eyeballs bulged at the mere suggestion, teeth locked together like a zipper. At this rate, he was going to grind them to dust. His misery was so intense it felt tangible, the kind of thing Shouto could reach out and touch.

"No," he seethed. "I've never wanted your help!"

Wasn't this a melodramatic reaction, even for someone as short-fused as Bakugou? Was he the type that avoided taking hormone suppressants? And if so, to what end? Most alphas and omegas were forced to, at least until they paired up with a beta who could mediate the tension. Or was this just more misplaced anger from their past that Shouto knew nothing about?

"If you don't get the hell away from me I'm gonna punch your throat into your guts!"

Bakugou took two measured steps back, defensive, until his shoulders brushed the wall. His eyes flickered between Shouto and Midoriya. The details weren't adding up. If Bakugou was in a rut, where was the increase in speed and power? Everyone seemed certain he'd presented years ago, but Shouto wasn't so sure.

"Kaachan smells…"

Midoriya's entire body went rigid, rooted in place before his childhood friend. An aching pull started from the bottom of Shouto's belly, warm and unfamiliar. It felt like all the air in the room had been vacuumed out and replaced by an oozing miasma of unresolved sexual tension. Bakugou's knees bent as he tried to catch his breath. Midoriya covered his nose.

"It's not a rut," he muttered, mystified. "He's...this is totally a heat."

It had taken Shouto a while to figure it out himself. Initially, it had seemed advisable for a beta to tag along rather than leave two riled up alphas to their own devices. However, that decision had been made under the pretense that Bakugou was in fact, an alpha. Which he wasn't. Shouto took a step closer, nose in the air.

"Bakugou is an omega," he clarified.

"Don't fuck with me!" Bakugou shot another round of fire, destroying the upper part of the opposing wall and exposing them to the silvery overcast sky. "Don't fucking try it."

The breeze through the hole in the ceiling was blowing in just the right direction for the scent to hit Shouto like a brick on a box spring. Being around an omega during a heat was suffocating, not to mention taxing on his self-restraint. Everything outside of his own head was urging him to give into what came naturally.

"It's okay to cry, Kaachan."

The sound of it made Shouto's head throb, made his skin crawl. Listening to it was quickly becoming unbearable. How could Midoriya stand it?

"Shut up!" Bakugou roared. His voice was all asphalt; gravel on the bottom of a fish tank. "Who's crying you stupid loser?"

"This isn't losing Kaachan," Midoriya said evenly. "Because I don't have anything to lose."

He moved toward Bakugou one step at a time, eye contact unwavering. The total lack of self-preservation was, as always, stunning. Bakugou appeared held in place by sheer force of will, even when their knees finally touched. Midoriya boxed him into the wall, one hand around his throat, thumb over the clavicle. Shouto tensed when Midoriya dipped his head to nose along the map of veins beneath Bakugou's skin.

"Stop fucking around."

Bakugou growled and tried to shove him off but Midoriya wasn't having it. Using the wall as leverage, he managed to ram his head into Bakugou's chest and force him back onto the cot. He struggled the entire way down, tearing the curtain from the rod on the ceiling and sending the rings ping-ponging around the room. Midoriya landed on top, keeping Bakugou's restless hips under control with a leg on either side of his waist.

When it boiled down to raw power, Midoriya was stronger, and they all knew it. Skill was another story, and luck was a factor no one could account for. Was Midoriya using his quirk to hold Bakugou down? It seemed okay because it was Midoriya, because Shouto trusted him, but that wasn't reason enough to let an alpha leave a mark.

"I apologize..." Midoriya's eyes widened but he kept his hands on Bakugou's shoulders. "My body moved on its own."

"So what, are you gonna rape me then, deku?" Bakugou attached to the idea instantly, fused it with that darker part of himself that believed it. "Even as an alpha, you're totally useless. Like an animal with no self-control. I knew it!"

His throat was raw with vindication, but Midoriya didn't waver. Bakugou tangled his fingers in Midoriya's shirt and yanked him close. Midoriya flinched. His skin was probably scalding.

"You were supposed to be the omega!" Bakugou cried, eyebrows digging wells in his forehead. "I should be the alpha. I'm stronger, I'm bigger, and I'm better. At everything!"

"Kaachan…" Midoriya licked his lips. "Bigger and better's got nothing to do with it."

Shouto crossed the floor and crouched beside the bed, resting a cold hand on Bakugou's arm, instantly lowering the searing temperature of the blood boiling under his skin. Bakugou turned to face him, with tracks on his cheeks from where tears had carved marks.

"Hey Icy-Hot, you're next," he said roughly. "Don't think just because you haven't presented I want your grubby mitts all over me."

Shouto didn't blink. "I've always been a beta, and you know that."

He'd never bothered to hide it. He was proud of the discriminant decision making that came with being naturally more levelheaded. Relationships had never interested him. The hotheaded alphas were as disinteresting as the unprotected omegas. Shouto had never desired either, until now. He felt drawn to mediate the imbalance, to sway things toward concupiscence.

"So what? You punks think you can just tagteam me, because you can't take me on your own?" Bakugou twisted his neck around in an effort to bash Shouto with his head. "Eat shit and die!"

"It isn't anything like that!"

None of this had been planned, but it had a sick serendipity all its own. Sure, it might have been easier with another omega instead of Midoriya, but this was Bakugou - he wasn't going to bend for anybody, regardless of the little symbol stamped on an identification card. Shouto smothered the urge to slide his hand between them.

"He's just going to work himself back up," Shouto stated.

"I know…" Midoriya grimaced. "But what can we do?" His eyes skated sideways. "I'm almost at my limit."

It wasn't until then that Shouto noticed the way Midoriya's arms were trembling on either side of Bakugou's form. Shouto had already seen the bloody slivers on his uncurled palms. This was just as hard on Midoriya, if not more. He shoved his face in the crook of Bakugou's neck and took a deep, sobering breath before pulling away.

"We have to put a stop to the heat," he declared. "Remember what Sensei said? The only way to stop it is to..."

Shouto's face was hot. "Knotting."

Bakugou managed to knock the metal cuffs into Midoriya's head. "I can still hear, you shitty fucking nerd."

"I know what you're thinking, but that's not what I'm suggesting." Midoriya swallowed. "We just have to use something so that your body thinks it was...well, you know."

"Fucked?" Bakugou sneered. "What the hell kind of thing is that? Gonna jam a hairbrush handle up me?" The pitch of his voice was steadily climbing, cracking, dismantling itself. "What, think I can't take you at your full power just because I'm an omega?"

A week had hardly passed since they'd gone over hormonal crisis response plans. Typical of Bakugou not to pay attention during a lecture he felt hadn't pertained to him.

"I'll keep Kaachan occupied," Midoriya said. He was trying to sound certain but his jaw was tense. He tightened his grip on Bakugou and turned to Shouto. "I'm trusting you to handle the rest."

Nothing had ever felt more important, more worthwhile. He was taking control and redirecting the situation seamlessly, the way he was born to. There was code written in all of them, not unlike the strings of numbers that ran through computer software. Rather than being held back by his instincts Shouto felt pulled forward, into a bigger, opener space.

"Fuuuuuck," Bakugou groaned. "I don't care anymore. Just fuck me. Somebody fuck me before I explode."

Midoriya panted, cheeks like a cherry popsicle. "Nobody is going to fuck you," he said breathlessly.

Shouto dabbed at the sweat on his brow. "And we definitely won't let you explode."

"Thanks," Bakugou snorted. "Dumb and dumber."

Shouto opened the miniature fridge beside them, reaching blindly around for a specific cartridge, the shape of it ironed into his brain. He found the plunger first. Something like a cross between a wireless drill and a water gun, but lighter. He didn't want to draw attention by peeling back, so he rested it on the floor between his feet while he continued to rifle around with his free hand.

"You're going to feel a lot better after this, I promise." Midoriya thought he was being soothing when he was really just riling him up. It wasn't even that hard to tell. "Let me take care of you, okay?"

"Shut the fuck up. Quit running your mouth already and get to work!"

Midoriya kissed him hard, until his mouth yielded. His hands crawled under Bakugou's blazer as he pressed him into the mattress with his lips, working it off him. Something close to a whimper passed between them, but it was impossible to tell whose. When they pulled apart Bakugou's tongue lashed in Midoriya's mouth like a wave of lava. Bakugou stiffened, shook, and stilled.

"I'll kill you," Bakugou gasped like he was breaking the water's surface for air. "When this is over, I'm gonna tear you in half."

Shouto closed his fist around the glass vial of liquid while Midoriya kept him distracted, replaying the lecture in his mind as he carefully loaded it into the dispenser. The little foil seal popped and the liquid sloshed into the tank. He cocked it back and Bakugou jumped.

"Don't even think about it," Bakugou commanded.

So he didn't. He just brushed along the seam of Bakugou's pants, where he found electricity in the nerve endings hidden under his clothes. He slid the button through the loop and tugged on the zip. Bakugou writhed, but wiggled out of his pants willingly. His cock was straining under the fabric of his boxers, oozing slick liquid into the crotch.

"It's too fucking hot," Bakugou complained. "Why the hell is it so hot?"

Midoriya swallowed his next complaint before moving his arm lower, where his hand met Shouto's, cupping Bakugou through the front of his underwear. Shouto began dragging his hand away, until Bakugou lifted his lower half to meet it. Shouto rewarded the behavior by slipping through the slit in the cotton and squeezing his inner thigh. Bakugou's unattended cock jumped, balls brushing Shouto's knuckles.

Instead of reaching for it, Shouto explored lower, probing the crease, dipping in to test the wetness there. He felt the moment Midoriya caught wind of it, straining not to swallow him whole. He brought the barrel of the loaded heat gun to Bakugou's skin, already warmed by his own. It was only two inches across, but the stainless steel was solid and inflexible.

"Hey Deku, better get your number two." Bakugou switched his attention to Shouto. "That's what you are, isn't it? Bet you're dying to do whatever any alpha says."

"That's not what having an alpha is like," Shouto said.

Bakugou's voice was hoarse. "I don't care what it's like."

Shouto plunged the length of the insemination stick inside him before the argument could continue, knocking the air from his lungs. His spine curled in a crescent moon when he arched his back, breath trapped in his throat before it escaped through his teeth in a hiss. Insemination was actually a misnomer, but the effect was similar. It tricked the body into thinking a knot had been tied, allowing it to move to the next phase of the cycle.

"I'm gonna destroy you both - shit, fuck!" His chest heaved and his ribs expanded. "Keep doing that, or I'll tear your face off!"

The balls of his feet twisted in the sheets when Shouto moved it inside him, slow and experimental. Spit flew from his mouth and a noise escaped, starved and animalistic. He was muffling his sounds with his hands but it wasn't really effective and just made him look more frenzied, like an animal gagging for it.

"Don't," Bakugou said venomously. "Don't stop now you useless pieces of shit."

It didn't take him long to find a spot that made Bakugou groan. Midoriya's hand shot down the length of his chest to grasp Shouto's, fingers sliding around his sweaty wrist and over the handle of the heat gun. He tensed from the shoulder down and forced Shouto to move his arm faster.

"Kaachan likes to do everything fast," he explained softly.

Bakugou grunted, bleeding from where he'd bit the inside of his cheek too hard. Midoriya continued to tease the perimeter of his hole, tracing his finger along the rim, nudging it lightly. Shouto's heart throbbed in his throat at the sight. What came next wasn't a necessary step to ending the heat, but rather because they couldn't control themselves.

"You feel amazing," Midoriya murmured, sheathing a fingertip inside. "Makes me wanna put it in here."

"You already are," Bakugou snapped, snarling.

Luckily Midoriya and Shouto had the cumulative self-control of a saint. Just enough to get by. Bakugou gritted his teeth like he hated the praise, but his erection told another story. It was clear the denial ran deep, that whatever had happened to Bakugou left craters inside his sense of worth.

"You know what I mean," Midoriya said playfully. "I mean putting it in for real."

Shouto twitched at the casual display of intimacy, coaxing the insemination stick deeper while Midoriya wiggled his finger in alongside it. It was an obscene version of an indirect kiss. He was just sinking into the second knuckle when Shouto found an angle that sent Bakugou's head thrashing from side to side.

"Good job," Midoriya said. To whom it was directed, Shouto wasn't sure. "There we go."

Bakugou's thick cock was cradled in Midoriya's palm, backed up with cum. He canted his hips to thrust into Midoriya's loose fist, searching for more friction. When Midoriya acquiesced Bakugou finally moaned, eyes rolling back in his head like two glossy red marbles.

"Look," Midoriya said, hushed, just for Shouto. "He's close."

The words sent a fever skirting up his shirt collar. Shouto could feel self-restraint slipping, dancing too close to the edge of a cliff they couldn't come back from. He wanted to see them do it - the slip, the knot, the tie - the whole nine yards. He wanted to help see this whole thing through to completion.

He released the trigger instead.

Everything around them disappeared when the knotting mechanism activated, inflating the round bulb at the base of the four inch neck. Orgasm tore through Bakugou, barrelling through the river of his blood and crashing out from between his legs. His dick jolted, helicoptered, and shot spunk across all three of them. The sheet tore in his white knuckled grip and he whimpered, splintered and defeated, before passing out.

"He-he came," Midoriya stuttered.

"And he went out like a light."

Midoriya gave him space, dumbfounded by the consequences of his own actions. His pants were a crime scene, but Bakugou looked worse - soft and small in ways that didn't reflect their natural reality.

Paramedics in face masks stormed the place and took Bakugou away before he came to, which was probably for the best. Shouto lingered even after he'd been carted away and Midoriya had left, lost in his head while doctors moved around him like fluttering hummingbirds. He could hear them whispering.

"They didn't do it?"

"No," said someone. "They used the insemination stick."

"Seriously?" said someone else, twice as incredulous. "A bunch of grade-tens?"


End file.
